


Photograph

by merryfortune



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: F/M, Minor Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 03:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4549371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryfortune/pseuds/merryfortune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charon has found a photograph of Fakir as a young child. Ahiru is eager to see it but it stirs some forgotten memories in Fakir.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Photograph

**Author's Note:**

> I am experimenting with angst writing so please give me feedback. I live off of it.

‘Aww, that’s you.’ cooed Ahiru as she fawned over a photograph Charon was showing them. He had found a box of old things in the attic but it was that photograph he thought would be appreciated most out of all the relics he had uncovered.

Ahiru was absolutely taken by the sepia photograph she was being shown. Fakir harrumphed. He was embarrassed by the chubby-faced munchkin in the picture. He could barely believe that little child was actually him. Being a child was a simpler time. The photograph had triggered a few forgotten memories. Fakir wished some memories would stay forgotten; the memories recurring were such ones.

‘Well, I have work to do.’ Charon announced and he left the kitchen. He had been finding more and more excuses lately to leave rooms ever since Ahiru had “returned”. Memories had been altered and most the town, or at least those who had known her, had thought that Ahiru had only recently come to Gold Crown to study ballet. A few, such as Fakir and Autor, knew better.

‘I think that’s you.’ Fakir said to Ahiru.

‘I think I’d remember you meeting me like that.’ Ahiru commented.

In the photograph, Fakir was smiling widely and innocently. His face was as bright as a candle. He was in play clothes and holding onto a struggling duckling with ruffled feathers which resembled cowlicks.

Fakir recalled the day the photograph had been taken. It had been a sunny day and a tad cloudy. There had been little to no wind and it had been a perfect day for a picnic. His mother had insisted to go on one for a while. She also wished to bring a camera but, once a upon a time, photography had been a whim for the rich but she had saved a lot of money to buy one.

It had been a fine day that day. They almost had their park to themselves, the only ones intruding on their family outing was a mother duck and her hatchlings. Fakir had managed to catch the smallest of them all. It had been a slow and dull witted creature but also tame and gentle. Fakir came to love that little duckling. It had made him smile. With her camera in hand, Fakir’s mother happily took a photo of her son cupping the little duckling. Fakir remembered how the light had dazzled him and the powdery smoke it had emitted made him sneeze.

Whilst the duckling in the photo probably wasn’t Ahiru, Fakir wanted to pretend. Memories stirred and prior to that day, he had written a story about a family of ducks who went on a “perilous” trek through a park. Was it really hard to imagine that he had conjured those ducks that day. But at the same time, Fakir desperately hoped that Ahiru wasn’t the duck from that day, conjured or real. He didn’t like the idea that the beautiful being he was in love with, had come from his own fantasy.

It was also because of what had followed that day. The photograph had been taken the day before Fakir’s parents had died.

Fakir wrapped his arm around Ahiru, surprising her but it was a small gesture that made her smile. ‘Can we please put away the photograph now?’

‘Only if we can take another one. I want to be in photograph with you. I mean, that duckling doesn’t look anything like me.’ Ahiru said and Fakir dropped his arm.

‘Maybe.’ he said.


End file.
